A Pirate's Love At Sea Belarus
by LittleSovietGirl
Summary: After another battle with Spain, pirate captain, Arthur Kirkland, moped around dealing with his injury when Natalya Alfroskaya, the beautiful woman of Belarus, came aboard with some injuries. Arthur now realizes he has to protect his love from his rival and her brother.
1. What Am I doing here?

I stood outside the door, pausing. No one knew I was on the ship, the crew had not seen me as my legs brought me down to this room. My body felt like it had a mind of its down, creeping into the room. I froze as soon as I stood past the door frame, gaining control over it again.

I stared at the back of the captain, sitting in an old chair as he stared into the porthole. I heard a slight groan before he growled. "Who is it?"

I straightened the white bow upon my head, fixing the hem of my tattered dress. "Natalya.' My voice was soft and weak as I said my own name.

There was a sound, like glass hitting a surface but not breaking. A green glass bottle rolled over to my feet, spilling the last of it's contents.

I picked up the bottle; pointlessly set it upright on any flat surface in the room. I turned around, his back still facing me from where I now stood.

"What are you doing here?" His breathe hitched slightly, turning his head to the wall, only his emerald eye glinting at me; sharp and fixed, narrowed and evil. He arched a brow, fingering the edge of his torn up feathered hat.

I tried to look at him, only to turn my head nervously. I still didn't have a convincing excuse nor would I admit the whole reason I was here in the first place. I fidgeted my hair this time and stumbled to find an answer, only saying, "Um...I...uh..." I wasn't good at being on the spot, more nervous than the nations realized of me.

He rose to his feet, slightly unsteady and had to end up gripping the table. He pivoted on his heel, facing me so his piercing emerald eyes were glaring at me; they almost seemed to glow in the dim lighting. "Yes?" He said coldly, his breathe hitched, his fingers trembling on the table.

I watched him turned toward me but again had turned my head to avoid his eyes. I couldn't answer him; having no clue what I should say.

"Answer me," he nearly hissed, his lips pursed in a snarl. He glared up, his fingers digging into the soft wood of the table. He couldn't seem to move, like he was in extreme pain. But his face remained serious and angry, like mask that couldn't be taken off.

I took a step back and hit whatever happened to behind me. I couldn't articulate words or thoughts, still unable to know why I was here. "I...um...I..." I gave in; answering in a small voice. "...I...don't...know..."

"Belarus...Tell me. This isn't like you at all." He growled under his breathe, trying to inch forward, cursing as his started forward. The pain grew more intense with each step. To the point where he kneeled forward onto the floor, hugging onto the old table, his fingernails crawling at the wood.

I ignored his words and ran over to him; the kind side who liked to look after people coming out, the one Ukraine raised me to be. I picked him up and placed him on the bed of his quarters, hoping it helped the pain

He hissed at me as I dragged him to bed, breaking into a cold sweat from the tension in his tearing flesh. His empty emerald eyes stared blankly at me, like he was resisting the urge to scream out. He merely gripped the sheets, the bandages across his chest growing darker.

I rummaged around for a cloth and dabbed away some of his sweat; taking his hand to let him squeeze it, not knowing what else to do. His fingers arched along my palms, his hellish burns similar to the ones I bore. "What in the name of the queen have you done?" He managed to choke out.

I winced slightly but didn't let go of his hand, wanting to comfort him. I looked down at him, taking the cloth and dabbing it along his forehead. "Hush…that's not important now…"

I tried to smile genuinely, to be comforting. But smiling wasn't something I knew how to do and it appeared rather fake. No matter how much I thought of my caring elder sister she couldn't get the smile right. I brushed the hair from his forehead so I could dab more. The thoughts of Ukraine didn't help me smile but it made me want to be more comforting and helpful to him.

"That smile..." he mumbled, his eyes narrowing. "You cannot lie to a pirate. It's like trying to con a con-artist, love," he snarled, glancing up at me with his forehead creased and eyebrows furrowed in intense pain.

That caused me to frown, knowing I wasn't really of any help to him. "I'm not trying to lie.…I just don't know how to smile…"

"Smile...such a incondensable word isn't it..?" He mumbled, his emerald eyes glancing up at me. Under that anger and pain, there seemed to be a small lying hope and care that lay hidden in the British pirate.

I nodded, looking down at him as he looked up at me. "Da." There was a genuine look in my eyes, showing that I cared for him.

His emerald eyes softened slightly, looking like he was trying to pull a smile only to let out another. He gave a small sigh as he moved on the pillow, hissing as the bandages grew darker in colour.

I

frowned, wondering what I had done to make him snarl at me again. I brushed away his the hair from his forehead, lightly patting some out the gunpowder and dried blood. Hissing at the pressure, his fingers running along the sheets. He gave a small sharp breath, the pain increasing.

I felt scared my touch was hurting him worse so I moved my hands away and put them in my lap. I didn't know what to do but wanted to help. A mixture of care and worry showing in my eyes.

He sat up on the hard wooden bed post, his fingers lingered along the bed, taking her hand again. His emerald eyes glinted in the candle lit room, features outlined by the dull lighting. I let him take my hand, not moving it at all. I looked into his eyes, now that he was nearly at eye level, forming a tiny smile.

His lips twitched into an unnatural smile, giving a small sigh before pulling a genuine smile. His eyes softening under the light, focusing on my burns, circling them softly with his fingers.

I reached to touch his face as he smiled but retracted my hand right away, watching him trace my burns.

"What happened?" he said curiously, his fingers running along my cold skin, his eyes locking onto her my orbs and his lips twisted into a concerned frown.

The warmth of his fingers surprised me, staring into his eyes and getting lost in the concern they showed. "Somehow...I got involved in this..."

"Spain." he hissed, snarling slightly, letting another ripple of pain shoot through his chest. "God forbid..." He let go of my hand gripping his sides.

I looked at him in worry, not knowing what to do to make his pain cease. Reaching to stroke his cheek, as a comforting touch, hopelessly thinking it would help. I didn't like seeing him in pain.

"When we dock...I'm getting off for medical help," he groaned out.

On impulse, I glided my hand down to his, taking it. "I'll go with you.…"

He glanced up at me. "Why?" he said softly, his tone hushed and mellow.

"You shouldn't go alone..." I gently laid him back down and stroked his forehead. I hoped to relax him, dulling him enough until he got the attention he needed. His head hit the pillow with a soft thud. "Well thank you.." his words slurred slightly, his vision blurring. I smiled slightly, softly stroking his forehead and cheeks.

His eyes fluttered closed, his breathing hitched as he fell in and out of consciousness, letting out small moans as he did. It worried me when he moaned, keeping his hand in mine, watching him concerned. He wheezed slightly in his light sleep, his forehead creased in pain, the expression written all over his pale blood stained face. I found something to damped the cloth I had earlier and patted off some of the blood; folding it and placed it on his forehead before taking his hand again. I watched him sleep, holding onto his hands gently. Whenever he flinched, or coughed, or moved too much, I'd place a gentle kiss on his hand, so he'd know I was still there.

"CAPTAIN!" A crew member bellowed out, pushing the wooden door back, making its hinges creak. "Captain...?" He glanced over at the English pirate laying on the hard bed. "What happened?" He took his hat off, revealing a full head of brown curls.

I didn't let of his hand, turning to address the man. "Just to let him be, so he could rest."

He looked down at the two nations. "We're docking now, give it a few minutes..." he said placing his hat back on, making an odd expression. He walked out of the room, closing the door slowly.

"Spasiba..." I barely acknowledged him after that and waited until they docked completely to wake him.

His eyes shot open when he felt it dock, a small jolt hitting the boat. "W-W-What?" He stammered, his eyes blurred as he glanced around the room, trying to recall anything.

"Sh...it's alright...we just docked," I murmured, kissing the back of his hand that I was still holding.

He sat up rubbing his head, pushing his feet to the floor, trying to grip his sense and letting go of my hand. He staggered off the bed, pulling his boots on, pulling his coat on tighter to hide his wounds and giving a last glance at his tattered hat. His fingers ran along the material, the smell of the sea mixed with the horrid rotting of dried blood.

I watched him put on his boots and coats, noticing his staggering and let him use my body for balance. I put his one arm on my waist and started to aid his body toward the deck.

He walked along the uneven planks of his ship, the sea air feeling wonderful after the stuffy air in his quarters. His eyes glanced over at the busy docks below, the crowds of people bustling along with large carts of cargo, street children running along bare foot.

He led me to a cabin, giving small knock on the rotting wooden door. "Its me, Arthur Kirkland," his voice grew more and more raspy as his fingers ran along the grain of the door. A small old woman, her wispy grey hair tied up in a bun, her small coal black eyes stood in the open frame. "Hello again Arthur~"

* * *

(This is all from a role-play I have done with an amazing role-player. I'm following it really closely, so most of the England's words are hers. I'm just adapting it into more of a story. Though she RP ended, Ill continued it on both stories, so the still will probably start changing. but that isnt for quite a few chapters away.

and I should probably say it's not historically acurate. We fudged some details to get the story we wanted to go with the picture this rp is on. Ill try to get both stories updated soon.


	2. The Woman

"Hello again, Arthur," the old woman cooed. He nodded towards her but started coughing harshly. I patted his back, unable to help focusing on him. "Don't worry, dearie. He'll be fine after being treated by Madam Madeline," she giggled, leading us into her room. He kept coughing as the incense in the room hung heavily. I placed his body on to the bed; looking down at him. "Now just rest here, Sonny, and I shall have you better in no time." She poked his nose, getting out her medical bag. I kept my hand in his, stroking his face as if I was trying to tell him I was there for him.

The old woman or Madam Madeline eyed me as she dug through her bag. I didn't know why she was almost starting at me like I didn't belong; like I was odd, out of place. Maybe it was strange. Some random woman holding the a pirate's hand as his wounds were being tended to?

After a few moments of silence, she pulled out multiple bottles of remedies. "Now then…" She gave a closer look Arthur, her eyes squinting to see clearly. "Ah... chronic internal bleeding, tsk tsk tsk. Take better care Arthur..." She shook her head slowly as she peeled the bandages off, revealing the deep running cuts still bleeding badly. I started to flinch as I watched the bandages being pulled. I'm not normally squeamish but I hated seeing him in such pain. "What have you been up to now?" She muttered as she slapped on a medical plaster; its green sticky medicine stinging like acid. He let out a small yelp before biting down on his bottom lip. I let him squeeze my hand as it stung him; unable to help leaning forward and kissing his forehead, hoping it would distract him. But he just choked a laugh, trying to brave the pain.

The old woman popped a small pill into his mouth and grabbed another bottle of green sludge. She poured this medical oil onto his burns and took off the biggest bandage on his head, cringing slightly at the sight. He let out an agonising cry as the liquid hit his forehead, his fingers gripping into the soft material of the bed. I turned my head, looking away and squeezing his hand.

"Calm down, you big baby," she teased, giving a small smile as placing the remaining oil onto his chest. "No pain no gain you always say..." She fingered the new bandages after wrapping them up again. As she leaned forward, she could smell the something present in his breath. "Arthur Kirkland! Don't tell me you've been drinking disinfecting alcohol again? Haven't I told you its bad for your head?" She gave a small click of the tongue in a disapproving tone, the way a mother would to her child.

He gave a weak chuckle. "Cannot help a pirate's bad habits, can you?" I squeezed his hand, shooting him a disapproving frown. I didn't like that he drank the disinfecting alcohol before; worrying about how long he'd been doing, and how it would effect him. I didn't want anything to happen to him.

"Never mind. These pills will help the inner infection. Don't throw them into the sea like last time…"

I looked at him with a half-glare. I'd have to keep an eye on him so he'd look after himself. My heart started beating faster at the thought of more time with him.

He gave her a pirate like smirk. "Cannot keep a pirate down as they say." He coughed harshly, gripping at his bandages, still in pain. I tried sitting him up and patting his back to help his coughs.

"And you, Dearie, those are some nasty burns. May I have a look?" She turned to me, placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, her coal black eyes glinting. "You should," he sighed softly, his emerald eyes staring lifelessly into mine. There seemed to be a small plea in his smile. I kissed his hand before letting go it, offering my hands to the old woman. She looked down at my burns. "Spain, was it?" She gave me a look of disapproval through her thick metallic glasses. Her long, boney fingers ran along her small medical shelf, pushing other bottles out of the way and grabbed a small white bottle.

"Da," I spoke quietly, nodding. Madam Madeline actually seemed surprised to my Russian answer and accent. I wondered if she actually knew Russian or just guessed that it was yes.

"Now hold still..." She applied the white cream to the burns, wrapping it up delicately; the smell of pinewood prominent in the bandage. It stung a little bit but I didn't move at all, aside form turning to my head to Arthur. He was eyeing me carefully, his back propped up against the wall, nose wrinkling at the smell of the cream.

I glanced around the room full of gypsy charms and dream catchers that hung everywhere; spell books with bent pages, parchment papers lay scattered on tables; oddly coloured bottles of different shapes and sizes lay on the wooden shelves. Everything seemed so unfamiliar; things I didn't see in my part of Europe.

"How is it, Sweetie?" She asked me softly, finishing off the bandages, her hand sliding softly along my cold skin, checking my pulse and blood flow.

I nodded slightly. "Da, it's fine."

"Good Good~" She patted my hands softly, rising from her chair, her wispy grey hair slightly ruffled from working on his injuries. "Just take the pills and you shall be fine..." She said softly, eyeing the letter on her desk, her fingers inched over it. "Oh and watch out for yourself...don't say I didn't warn you..." She trailed off. Arthur rose from the bed, putting his red coat on; his piercing eyes staring at my new bandages. I nodded to what Madam Madeline was saying before going over to assist him, so he could walk again. I noticed he couldn't stop staring at my bandages. "Don't worry about it. I've had much worse, da?"

"How can I not worry with that bloody bastard, Spain, running around my turf, ruining my trade and my men..." He spit out, gritting his teeth together. "Like I said, watch our back, that Spain's got another thing coming..." Madam Madeline said coldly, running her hand along the small envelope. Her coal black eyes glanced down at the pristine white letter, taking the red wax seal off the paper. "Well, you'd best be getting off Kirkland..." She trailed off again, playing with her glasses nervously. He raised a brow curiously before walking out of the heavily scented room, into the cool air of the harbour, listening to the sound of the busy streets behind us. I kept my arm around his waist, leading him back to his quarters. He cringed with each step, probably from the stinging of the pain. "Of all blasted people to come and take my turf..." He grumbled softly, his fingers gripping onto the chain around his neck; a small piece of gold hanging off it, slightly dented and dusted in gunpowder.

I sighed, watching him cringe. "You'll take care of that bastard again, just like before, da? But after you are better. Come. Back to your bed, mister." My tone was authoritative but gentle. Same way a mother would speak to her hurt/sick child. I managed to get him to his quarters and lay him down on his bed again.

"I don't want you going near Spain...Not again." His eyes glanced down at my burns again. I tried to read his expression; he seemed quite angry at the thought he had brought up.

I couldn't help but frown with the thoughts about Spain. I still didn't want to admit why I had to go to that country in the first place. I stroked his forehead again, spending a few moments with my comforting touches on the upper part of his body; my eyes showing how sad I was. "It wasn't really my intention to go in the first place..."

"Then why did you?" His forehead creased slightly, as he pursed his lips. His fingers ran along my burns, my skin cold as ice.

I frowned and turned away, unable to look him in the eye when I was to say part of the reason. "I didn't have a choice..."


End file.
